


Rangers and Redemption

by maglor_still_lives



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maglor_still_lives/pseuds/maglor_still_lives
Summary: Where was Maglor during the events of LotR?
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38
Collections: Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story--or more accurately, a collection of fragments of a story--that I dredged up from many years ago...hopefully you enjoy it. It was fun to reread.

Maglor was just getting settled in the darkest nook of The Prancing Pony when the bell on the door clanged and a tall man entered. A longsword hung from his belt, the blade hidden beneath his cloak. He greeted the bartender with a few words and then walked over to where Magor sat. The two looked each other over, grey eyes meeting grey eyes.

“You,” the newcomer said with mock haughtiness, “are in my corner.”

Maglor looked at him. “First come, first served, my friend.”

The man, Strider, pulled down his hood. His oily hair sprung about his shoulders and he moved closer to Maglor until his tattered silhouette loomed above the elf.

“What brings you to these parts?” Maglor asked. He took a long sip of the beer--which was excellent, for a human establishment--and raised his eyebrows at the Ranger.

“I am to meet up with a certain person, the identity of whom is none of your business.” Strider’s grey eyes reflected the firelight, making them impossible to read. 

Maglor shrugged. “I was leaving soon anyway. Perhaps I’ll see you once your mission is complete.”

“I am certain of it.”

Maglor looked at him quizzically. “You know something I don’t?”

Strider smiled. “Do I? News always seems to go to you first. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find a different seat.” He turned and disappeared into the crowded tavern.

The next morning, Maglor woke early. He scrawled a note in Sindarin telling Strider where he was going, then belted on his sword, fastened his cloak, and walked softly down the stairs.

The bartender and owner, Barliman Butterbur, was at his post already. He was counting his money from the previous night, doing it while his patrons were still sleeping off their hangovers. 

“Kano!” Butterbur exclaimed. “Leaving already?”

“I’m afraid so.” Maglor placed his letter and a few coins on the counter. “For my horse. And would you deliver this to Strider when you next see him?”

“Of course. As long as he doesn’t slip away before I see him again. Hasn’t he done that before.”

Maglor smiled. “I don’t think he will this time.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maglor meets someone unexpected on the road.

The fog still hung over the fields as Maglor rode away from Bree. He was scouting for the Dunedain, and planned to make a circle around the Shire to check for any danger. He doubted he would find any, but as a ranger it was his duty to protect the Shire from harm.

He left the main road shortly after leaving Bree, following a near-invisible ranger trail through the woods. Four days had passed undisturbed before he heard the sound of hooves crunching through the underbrush. 

Maglor turned and silently drew his bow. He could see the rider through the trees. It was an elf, clearly, with long, meticulously braided golden hair and a highborn look about him. His armor was crafted in the woven Noldorin style, made out of the highest quality steel or maybe even an alloy of mithril. His horse was gleaming white, and a long, broad sword hung from the elf’s saddle. His gear looked more suited for a pitched battle than a tracking mission in the forest.

“I see you,” the elf called. He left his sword where it was, sitting easily in his saddle. 

“I see  _ you _ ,” Maglor replied, keeping his bow aimed at the elf’s head.

“You should put that down. If you killed me, you’d be called ‘kinslayer’ for the rest of your life.”

Maglor growled. “Tell me your name.”

The golden elf’s countenance showed no fear, but he raised his hands to his head mockingly all the same. With his knees, he guided his horse a few steps further so the elves could see each other without obstruction. “I am Glorfindel. I come from Rivendell at Lord Elrond’s behest.”

“And what does Lord Elrond want with me, my  _ lord? _ ” Maglor had yet to relax his bow. He’d heard the name before, but didn’t know how Glorfindel recognized him. As far as he recalled, they’d never met. 

“Oh no.” Glorfindel shook his head. “Don’t  _ my lord _ me, Kanafinwë son of Curufinwë.”

_ Glorfindel! Of course!  _ Maglor’s voice and bowstring grew even tenser. “What does Elrond want with me?”

“ _ Lord _ Elrond requests your presence at a council, which will meet as soon as Lord Aragorn arrives with his delivery.”

At last, Maglor slowly released the tension from his bow, although he kept the arrow nocked. “I thought it was a person that required Aragorn’s attention. Or is it an object that is of such importance?”

“You are more astute than will do you good, son of Fëanor. I am not, however, at liberty to discuss this outside of Imladris. So if you would follow me, I will inform you as soon as we arrive.”

“Fine,” Maglor said. The Shire didn’t seem under dire threat; he could afford to take a few months away from it. “I will advise Elrond, although he can do just fine without me.” He replaced the arrow in his quiver and slung the bow over his saddle, then urged his horse into a gallop. His mare ran lightly along the narrow path and Maglor was pleased when he heard the sound of Glorfindel’s white charger heaving as he tried to catch up.

Why did Elrond need his advice? What was so important that now, after so long distant, Elrond would send word to him? Elrond never asked for advice. He was better than Mgalor at everything, and that wasn’t false humility, it was simply a fact. His thoughts racing, he sped away, leaving Glorfindel in the dust. 

  
  



End file.
